Cardigans and Coffee
by Floss
Summary: Follows Tonks after the split with Remus. Sequel to As Good As Dead, no need to read AGAD beforehand. Written on request.


**Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. I don't own anything in this story.**

A/N: This was done on request of R.L.N.Tonks on an extremely rainy day in Haast NZ, and was named by the wonderful Jazz/Karen.

Cardigans and Coffee.

She shuffled through their flat, her flat now. It had been such a long hard day. Her paperwork and wand was clutched in one hand, a mug of hot coffee in the other - the day was no-where near over yet. There was always paperwork.

It was hard to get used to the flat now that she had it to herself. The whole place felt different, it was colder, less welcoming, now that it was just her. Darker too. When she came home now, it was always to a dark, empty, place. Knowing she'd be back for more coffee later, she left the kitchen light on and moved towards the study.

It had been predominately his room. She had done all her work related stuff on the floor of the living room. It was all the easier to spread out and get organised. It was her study now though and she might as well use it.

Once through the door she turned and edged herself along the wall, trying to locate the light switch with her nose. She had no free hand to flip the switch so she scrunched up her face and concentrated hard. Her nose grew the extra outward inch she needed to turn the light on without banging her head on the wall. Harsh yellowness lit the room, she bent her knees slightly and used her nose once more to turn the dimmer switch slightly. The light became less harsh. She scrunched her face up once more: returning her nose to normal and moved towards the desk. It was only then that she realised she had split half of her coffee down the cream coloured wall.

"Typical." she muttered.

She wondered if he'd be annoyed or amused by her latest accident. Not that his reaction mattered much anymore, or so she told herself. She had to stop caring about what he would think, he had ended it after all.

She left the stain where it was, on the wall of her study, in her flat, and told herself she thought it added a certain something to the decor. She placed the rest of her coffee, wand, and paperwork on the desk and sat, with a deliberate slump, with her back to the stain. Let it dry, she thought; let it ruin the damn wall. Her flat, her rules about cleaning up.

She glanced at her paperwork, and then at the room around her. It wasn't much of a study anymore; he had taken all of his books and study paraphernalia with him. It was basically just a room with a desk and the odd things she had failed to find a home for. A broken umbrella, two ripped jackets she hadn't gotten round to mending and a dead pot plant her mother had given them when she had moved in. But 'the study' sounded better than 'desk and odds and sods room'.

Rain started to pelt at the high window in front of her, the wind rose and sprayed it at various angles. She watched as two drops ran from the top of the pane, racing towards the bottom, mixing with other drops in their descent. When the right drop beat the left she smiled, she had been betting that that drop would win. But it was no fun to guess and bet alone, especially when this had been his favourite rainy day game to play with her. Picking up her wand she aimed it at the curtains, drawing them against the wet night. She had paperwork to complete, there wasn't time for games.

She pulled the mass of parchment towards her and gazed intently at it. Concentrate. But it wasn't as easy as just getting on with it. The stain on the wall was nagging at the back of her mind now. She swivelled in her chair and looked at it.

"Not cleaning you." she said. "Got better things to do."

Except that work was never necessarily better. She turned back to the desk. Concentrate. The wind had picked up, drumming the rain harder against the windows, whistling through the cracks and making the silence inside seem all the more noisy. There was little worse than a loudly quiet house. She thought that over in her head, 'loudly quiet'. Few people would understand what she meant, but he was one of them. He had always told her how astounding her grasp on the English language was. Especially when she said something like loudly quiet. His favourite had been when she had told him she'd be back in a minute later on. He'd teased her for days and employed it whenever she asked where he was going.

He hadn't said it when he left the last time though.

She scolded herself mentally, stop thinking about him. He might well be right, it might just all be for the best. Only when was it for the best to feel like this? The more she thought about it the more miserable she felt, the more desperate. She glanced once more at the paperwork, between the rain, the stain, and her wandering mind she knew she'd never get round to it tonight. She left it where it was, cold coffee and all.

This time when she hit the light switch she used her hand, plunging herself into darkness. The kitchen light glowed feebly at the end of the hall but she couldn't muster the energy to go and turn the light off she'd leave it 'til morning.

Reaching her bedroom she gave in to the thudding in her head. The ache had persisted for days now, it had very little to do with her growing workload, but more with the fact that she had to force herself to morph now. It was no longer an almost unconscious action, she had to focus hard now to command a change. And rather than let her body sort itself out with a little rest she pushed it all the more. To prove to herself and everyone else that she still had a purpose and a worth. She refused to let herself be cast aside again, she would be useful if it killed her. And this headache felt like it might do just that. Tonks let her body collapse on the bed, too tired to undress and climb in properly.

It was all his fault really. Damn stubborn arse, telling her what was in her best interests. Making her feel like this, mistrusting her own abilities. Her own worth! Arse. She hated him. Or at least she wished she could. Wished she could be as cold and detached as he was. Before she knew it she was crying. Again.

None of it mattered. His lycanthropy. The building war. None of it. All that mattered was that she loved him, and knew that he felt the same too.

She rolled over to his side of the bed, missing the warmth he usually left there. He hadn't even left anything of his for her to cling melodramatically to. Though she knew he had very little to leave behind anyway, she still resented it. Just one musty cardigan, was that too much to ask? Selfish, bloody werewolf! She couldn't help but smile at the thought of him, despite the tears in her eyes. Despite everything that he had said, and the way he avoided her eyes now whenever they met. Despite it all, all the nights she'd lie on his side of the bed and cry. She still loved him. It would take a lot more than a few curt words and the use of her full name to make her feel otherwise. If only she could convince him of that, though Merlin only knew what that would take. She could wait though, until the opportunity presented itself. There was nothing she could do but wait and see.

"Sweet dreams Remus." she sighed and proceeded to count the minutes until morning, when she'd get up and start over again, without him.

* * *

Of course a lovely happy reunion will follow, when I've written it. 


End file.
